


guilty of being blessed

by Star_on_a_Staff



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Annette loving her baby girl and feeling bad for loving her baby girl, Children, Comfort, Coping, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of miscarriage, Miscarriage, Mourning, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending, Singing, Supportive Husband Felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_on_a_Staff/pseuds/Star_on_a_Staff
Summary: “How do you have so much energy?” Felix directs his question to his daughter who’s currently trying to make a snow angel in the covers.“It’s cuz Imma wyvern.” Rosalind declares proudly. “Mama taught me how to fly.”Annette suddenly bursts into tears.Or; Mercedes miscarries and Annette mourns as her own daughter plays happily in her lap. Hurt/Comfort. Felix/Annette. Post Canon. Brief mentions of miscarriage but nothing explicit.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Background Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	guilty of being blessed

**Author's Note:**

> People on Twitter want me to write fluff. I'll get this off my chest first since it's an idea that's been bumping around my head lately. 
> 
> I gotta keep up my reputation for angst, after all. 
> 
> Enjoy. Or don't. It's up to you.

In the very northernmost parts of Faerghus, where the tip of the country sinks into bone cold sea, the gap-toothed granddames have an old maxim: _Fate is kind in the same way a wyvern is meek_.

In her golden-brown days of ignorance, Annette used to think that saying dreadfully pessimistic. But here, kneeling by her best friend’s bedside as Mercedes clutches the empty space below her heart where her child used to be, Annette can’t help but agree with those bleak-hearted northerners.

.  
.  
.

Felix finds her in their quarters several hours later. Rosalind is balanced precariously on her mother’s knees, tilting side to side as she pretends to fly. Annette doesn’t realize he’s entered until Rosalind clambers off of her lap and dashes off to fling herself around her father’s legs, giggling as he unpeels her from his knees and hefts her up onto his shoulder with minimal effort.

“You should sleep,” Felix says to Annette as Rosalind tangles her fingers into his hair gleefully.

“I tried,” Annette replies honestly. “But every time I try to lay down my eyes won’t shut.”

Felix sits down next to her on the bed. Rosalind tumbles from his shoulders with a squeal of delight and lies spread-eagled on the comforter with a luxurious sigh.

“How do you have so much energy?” Felix directs his question to his daughter who’s currently trying to make a snow angel in the covers.

“It’s cuz Imma wyvern,” Rosalind declares proudly. “Mama taught me how to fly.”

Annette suddenly bursts into tears.

“Hey.” Felix puts his arms around Annette, and she buries her head in his chest as heaving sobs wrack her frame. “Hey, it’s alright.”

Rosalind crawls up to Annette’s side, her blue eyes wide. “Mama?”

“She’s sad,” Felix tells her, his voice gruff and suspiciously hoarse. “She had a stressful day. Don’t bother her now.”

“It’s okay.” Annette tries to gasp out, her hands fisting in his shirt. She smiles a watery smile at her daughter. “Come here, love.”

Obediently, Rosalind snuggles into her mother’s side. “Wanna song?” She asks bluntly, nuzzling her head into her mother’s stomach.

“Please.” Annette sniffles, feeling guilty and blessed all at once. Felix’s arms tighten around her.

Rosalind ponders for a while, and then looks back up at her mother. “Canna sing the dungeon song?”

“Sing whatever you like, baby,” Annette murmurs. Felix takes one hand and runs it along the length of her face, brushing the stray strands of hair out of her fluttering eyes. 

“Okay.” Rosalind wriggles around so that she’s lying face-up in her mother’s lap, staring thoughtfully at the canopy of the great four poster bed. Her feet kick idly as she gathers her thoughts.

Finally, she begins to sing; it's a little too sharp, a little too breathy, but she sings earnestly, lisping only a little on the s’s and the th’s. _"In the dungeon, it’s dark and scary_ … _so you’d best be wary…_ ”

Annette sobs. Felix tucks another fiery strand behind her ear, slowly, deliberately.

“ _It’s eviler than night…_ ” Rosalind continues, her brows scrunched thoughtfully, eyeing the embroidery on the canopy like it’s going to leap out and bite her. “ _There’s no light in sight…_ ”

Annette hiccups and sniffles. It’s the worst kind of an ugly cry. Felix’s fingers fall to her cheek, collecting every tear before it drips off of her chin.

“ _But don’t you fear…”_ Rosalind snuggles deeper into her mother’s lap. “ _The dungeon’s end is near…_ ”

Annette sucks in a steadying breath. Her heart slows its fierce, despairing thumping until it fades into a dull, weary plodding. 

“ _Look! A light shines up ahead…_ um...” Rosalind hesitates. “I forgot.”

“It’s time to quicken your tread,” Felix supplies, deadpan. Annette’s shuddering is beginning to subside. 

“Whas tread again?” Rosalind asks.

“Footsteps.”

“Oh.” Rosalind ponders this, shrugs, and barrels on. “ _Quick your tread_ …”

She sighs happily as her mother’s hand strokes her baby-soft forehead. “ _And boom! There’s the end to the spooky scary dungeon.”_

The child pauses a moment after the song’s end. The night wind whispers outside, quiet and sinister. Somewhere down the hall, a door shuts, and a pair of quiet, agonized footsteps wanders deeper into the Gautier castle.

Felix broke the silence. “You got through the whole song this time.”

“Yup.” Rosalind smiles happily, craning her neck until she can meet her father’s eyes upside-down. “It’s cuz Mama sings it to me allllll the time.”

Annette revels in the soft blue-black strands on Rosalind’s head. “It was beautiful, pumpkin.”

“Don’t call me that.” Rosalind pouts, yawning. “Imma wyvern, ‘member?”

“I’m sorry, wyvern.”

“Imma wyvern,” she confirms happily, sleepily.

“You should sleep,” Annette says to Rosalind. Felix rolls his eyes a little at her. 

“M’ not tired,” Rosalind slurs. “Wyvern’s never tired.”

“You have to rest your wings.”

“I’m. Not. Tired.” Every word is punctuated with indignant emphasis.

“Do you want to sleep between Mama and Papa tonight?” Annette asks.

Rosalind blinks sleepily up at them, a little cross-eyed. “You said wyverns don’t sleep with Mama and Papa when their wings get big.”

“We can make room,” Felix answers. He’s gazing at Annette, who is gazing at Rosalind. 

“Okay then,” Rosalind decides, a little reluctantly. She looks up at Felix. “I kick.”

“That’s alright.”

“I hafta go potty in between.”

“Mama can help you.”

“Can I bring Kyphon?”

“Go fetch him.”

Rosalind scoots off of Annette’s lap and stumbles sleepily into the next room. Annette stretches, wincing as her spine pops. Felix rubs her shoulder.

“You alright?” He asks her quietly.

“I will be,” Annette replies, shivering. “I just…want to be a little selfish tonight. If that’s alright.”

Felix presses his lips to her neck gravely. “Of course.”

Rosalind comes back, dragging her stuffed wyvern along the ground. “Now I’m tired.” She rubs her eyes.

“Good.” Felix unbuckles his belt and sets his sword aside. He begins unlacing his boots. “You’ll sleep between us.”

“Why?”

“So you won’t fall off the edge.”

“Can I touch the sword?”

“No.”

Rosalind is too tired to pout. She holds up her arms. Annette swings her up gently and nestles her in the crevice of the two pillows on the bed. The child yawns widely, pulling her stuffed wyvern under her chin.

Annette kicks off her shoes and crawls into bed beside her. Felix returns with an extra comforter. Rosalind’s eyes are fluttering shut.

“Love you,” she slurs.

Annette’s eyes well up again. His face working, Felix tucks the covers around her chin, brushing his daughter’s hair behind her ear.

“We love you too, little wyvern.” Annette whispers. “We are so, so blessed to have you.”

Rosalind smiles dreamily.

When she drifts into sleep, she’s only a _little_ annoyed that her parents are holding her a little too tightly than what’s necessary for the comfort of slumber.

.

.

.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Rosalind is almost four. Annette is currently pregnant with her second child. Felix just came back from dealing with Sylvain's grief. Sadness abounds. 
> 
> I am SO SORRY for constantly hurting Mercedes but I promise to give her four/five healthy children after this. Okay? *hides from the angry mob* 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
